Noticing November is an invitation to pay attention to the unique gifts of this month and find beauty, healing and gratitude in the darkening world. Each week of November I’ll post a short reflection and a prompt to help you notice the grace in your own ordinary days.
When I sketched this year’s Noticing November posts out on a piece of scrap paper over a month ago, I already knew what this last week would be. I wanted to end with our gaze on gratitude—partly in honour of my American friends celebrating Thanksgiving, and partly because the goal of attention is always something beyond itself.
What do we do with all the beauty we’ve gathered this month?
And what do we do with all the pain that slips in right along with it?
On Thursday morning of last week, as the late rising sun came streaming through the dining room windows, I received the news that a dear friend and fellow writer, Linda Willen, had gone to be with Jesus. She had been struggling through cancer and surgery recovery, and now her suffering was at an end. I went out to wander in the frosty valley, dazed and dazzled by the quiet beauty of the morning, giving thanks while tears melted down my face.
“All means all.”
This was a Linda saying, drawn from one of her favourite Scriptures which says, “Give thanks in all things” (1 Thessalonians 5:18). Linda put this to the test through cancer and its complications. When life got hard for her, or for her friends, she would remind us that “all means all.” The quest to give thanks is just as necessary in the storms as it is in smooth sailing.
Linda was one of the most generous people I know. Her outlook, even through suffering, was to live with open hands and a grateful heart. No matter who was in front of her, she gave freely of herself. And she gave her thanks and praise to God, whether with rich vibrato or weakened vocal cords.
All means all.
With Linda’s voice echoing through my head, I find myself coming back to the question I asked at the beginning of November.
Can beauty heal? Oh yes—especially when we recognize it coming from the hand of a God who created blazing maples and blushing skies out of sheer and joyful generosity.
Can smallness hold? Oh yes—especially when we remember that this God of wonders became small so he could gather us into his divine grace with human arms.
Can patterns comfort? Oh yes, especially when we rest in the beyond-mathematical truth that Love is what is holding ALL of this, and us, together.
Everything I’ve noticed this month gives me courage for what comes next: to give thanks. . . in all things. Not because everything that happened in November is good, but because I’m learning to see the goodness of God in all these unexpected places.
All means all.
On Sunday afternoon I went for a walk with my nine year old to our little pond down the lane. We were drawn to the narrow bridge over the water, where we threw pebbles as far as we could, playing a game of who could make the loudest PLUNK. (She beat me, as nine year olds are in the habit of doing.)
The water seemed to catch more than our pebbles—it caught the falling light, sending it back in gleaming ripples. It caught the sound of trailing geese overhead and magnified each whooshing wingbeat. It caught our carefree laughter and thew it downstream, where it mingled with the music of miniature rapids giving themselves to the gravity of the waiting sea.
Thank you, thank you, I whispered.
Can the river teach me how to move so that gratitude encompasses all my valley? Can I, too, live in this merciful freedom till I am gladly poured out?
We explored the water’s edge till our noses got cold and it was time to turn back for home. And when the hill got steep, we held hands and carried each other up.
This week, look for anything in your world that is in the process or posture of giving.
Notice:
open hands (or other openings)
movement toward the other
anything freely given
Engage all your senses and open your heart to this freeflow of generosity, found in heaven and nature alike. And when you notice it, move from attention to gratitude. Stop yourself right there and say thank you. Say it out loud, if you dare! Write it, send it, sing it so someone else can hear.
How many thank yous can you fling into the world this week? How loud will your PLUNK be?
Remember, all means all.
God of Generosity,
All that is given,
I offer back in praise.
All I cannot carry,
I lay down here.
In all things,
every moment,
You are near.
Amen.
How did last week go? What was the most comforting pattern you found?
I’d love to hear what you notice this week!
Tell me what surprises or delights you. Tell me what heals.
Join the conversation by sharing your observations and experience for this week in the comments here, and we can chat about how what we see is shaping our vision and healing our souls.
Follow me on Instagram and Substack Notes for more Noticing November photos.
If you’d like to invite a friend on this journey, please forward or share this post! And make sure you’re subscribed to Small Wonder to catch the rest of the posts for Noticing November.
As much as I love sharing Noticing November with you all and posting the treasures I find online, I’m also craving time to relearn rhythms of quiet and refocus my eyes and ears to incarnate reality.
Here’s one way you can do the same:
1. Download your copy of A Quiet Christmas: Keeping Silence with the Word (my lectio divina style Advent devotional)
2. Print the PDF at home (or local print shop)
3. Engage the page, the Word, and his whispers in the world
Download available here (sale price until November 30).
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